Day and Night

This is Day Three of reading the One Year Bible. My plan is always to read it first thing in the morning, "Bible before breakfast", but in the past three days I have read it first thing in the morning, last thing at night (I mean, just before midnight!) and in the middle of the morning.

It's not a rigid schedule that gets me to read my Bible everyday, it's a basic desire for it. After reading the One Year Bible for quite a few years and I have quite an appetite for God's word. And I love how God meets me when I open up the Bible. The ongoing conversation I have with Him in prayer all day long definitely becomes two-way when I read the words in his book.

This morning I had a hard time choosing my "favorite passage from today' readings". I finally settled on Matthew 4:4,7, & 10, where Jesus defeated temptation by quoting scripture. It's a great example to follow!

Heartwarming...

This summer, the neighbor across the street asked me if I would like to care for her little son on Tuesday mornings come fall. She knew that I had done daycare in the past. More than that, she knows that I am a grandma and she thought Alastair and I would get along great.

Well, I thought, I really want to get a real job, with a salary. I am actively looking for a job like that and, if I find something, it might make it impossible for me to be available on Tuesday mornings. I am not a babysitter or daycare provider anymore. I have moved on. I’m a seminarian now, I should get a job that reflects my new goals in life.

August came and my neighbor asked again if I was available. “Sure,” I said. “I don’t have anything else going on yet.” And so it came to be that I began taking care of 14-month-old Alastair every Tuesday morning. He is a sweetheart and it’s really fun to spend four hours following him around the park, playing with toys and eating snacks. He loves reading the same books over and over. He tosses me his favorite ball like it is being fired from a slingshot. We continually press buttons and push levers to get sound effects out of his floor toys. It’s pretty relaxing to do these things four hours a week.

The first week, after I left and Alastair had his afternoon nap, he came outside to play in the front yard with his mom and brothers. Before Mom knew it, Alastair was toddling his way across the street toward my house, wanting to come over and say hello. She couldn’t dissuade him from this and soon he was patting my front door. When I opened it, there was an apologetic mother and a grinning baby on my doorstep. I was delighted to see them. We visited briefly and they went home.

This week, Alastair did the same thing. He insisted that he be allowed to come and “knock” at my door. This time when I opened the door, not only Alastair and his mom, but most of the other kids in the neighborhood were there. Everyone thinks it’s cute that Ali wants to go visiting, so they tagged along.

This morning I was in my front yard adjusting the sprinkler when the family across the street got into their car to drive to school. As they backed into the street their mom asked if I would say hi to Alastair in his car seat. I walked over and when the side door slid open, I also got to talk with his brothers who are very excited about what they are learning at school.

Caring for Ali has brought me wonderful new connections to my neighborhood. Today I am hurrying to get my work done so I can be free at 4:00 p.m. when the kids go out to play. I plan to take a lawn chair and join them all outside where we can visit without the hazard of Alastair trying to cross the road to get to my door. I will take my knitting, go hang out with the moms and watch the children play.

If anyone I know ever wonders whether a single, small life can have influence, I am going to have to sit them down and tell them all about Alastair.

A Poem for Monday

Otherwise
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise, I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

-Jane Kenyon-

___________________________________

Savor the gifts of each hour and each day of this week.

Even the most mundane experiences become significant

when they are properly noted and appreciated.

Live in love.

Festive Friday

Friday! It’s the most festive day of the week at our house. Work is DONE for the week and HOORAY! Saturday and Sunday are just ahead. Friday evening is our doorway to relaxation. I like to make it a mini-celebration if I can because I know my husband is tired and ready to put his cares behind him by the time he gets home.

When we had a houseful of young children, Friday was the night I had a fun meal for them. I would fix their dinner early so that by the time Dad got home they were contented and on their way to bed.

We called this “snacky supper” and it was a small smorgasbord of things they liked from popcorn to pancakes. I put out bowls of carrot sticks, apple slices, cheese sticks, raisins and something with a little protein like peanut butter crackers or pizza. Sometimes we had a pancake supper with a variety of toppings. They snacked away while we chatted or watched a video, then I gave them something for dessert and off they went to bed.

It isn’t hard to make a special evening for my husband on Friday nights. When he arrives home from work he is looking forward to some peace and quiet, a good meal and my companionship. He really doesn’t care if the house is perfect, but he also doesn’t want to hear any bad news from the home front. He looks forward to one evening of the week where things are light and relaxed. Any topic that causes concern or anxiety for either of us will keep until some other day of the week. Fridays are for fun.

Here is how I set the stage for a Festive Friday:

1. I tidy up the path from the front door to the bedroom and bathroom and back to the kitchen. At the very least, I get rid of the clutter. Vacuuming and dusting is a bonus. I also turn on lights so that people who are coming home don’t feel like they are entering a cave.

2. I get something going in the kitchen that will create an appealing aroma in the air. This could be a nice candle or some cinnamon sticks on the stove, or it might be dinner cooking. Along with aroma I may create a visible welcome with a plate of grapes and cheese that is ready for nibbling. The idea is to generate anticipation for the good things that are to come.

3. I plan a SIMPLE meal for Friday evenings. This is not the evening I want to make a five part recipe that uses all of my pots and pans.
* I get a steak to broil with some salt and pepper on top.
* I cook salmon fillets or bake seasoned chicken breasts.
* I use store-bought sauces or seasonings to dress things up and I steam a colorful collection of fresh vegetables to put on the plate.
* If I want something starchy, I roast some small red potatoes coated with olive oil and sprinkled with minced garlic at high heat in the oven.
* I open a bag of good salad and add some good fresh bread and butter or olive oil for dipping and I have a beautiful meal.
* If we want dessert, I put out some strawberries, a bar of dark chocolate and shortbread cookies.
* Sometimes I cheat all the way and buy dinner at a deli or supermarket. That works just as well.

4. Nothing beats candle-power for a festive evening. A candle at the dinner table makes even soup and crackers seem special. Sometimes I take dinner to the coffee table and we sit on cushions and eat by candlelight there. Candles in safe containers in various other places around the room also add to the calm and special mood of the evening.

5. Before my husband gets home I try take stock of whatever is irritating or upsetting me and make a plan to address it at another time. I dwell upon the joy of having such a good man in my life and I give thanks that he loves me and comes home to me on Friday nights. I get ready to greet him with enthusiasm.

I also remember that he will need at least fifteen minutes to transition at home before the festivities begin. I don’t expect him to comment upon how nice everything is. In fact, if it all goes so smoothly that he hardly notices my efforts, I pat myself on the back for doing a good job. This little weekly celebration is a gift for him and his appreciation in return is a bonus for me, not the reason I do what I do.

I am so blessed to have a home of my own. I am blessed to have a kitchen to cook in, a living room to sit in and a bedroom to sleep in. I love the fact that I have someone special to share my life with. It really doesn’t take very much thought to find a reason to celebrate every Friday night, and it really doesn’t take much effort either. Happy Festive Friday! I hope yours is wonderful.

Too Hard

Rule of Benedict, Chapter 68, Assignment of Impossible Tasks

“Monastics may be assigned a burdensome task or something they cannot do. If so, they should with complete gentleness and obedience, accept the order given them. Should they see, however, that the weight of the burden is altogether too much for their strength, then they should choose the appropriate moment and explain patiently to the prioress or abbot the reasons why they cannot perform the task. This they ought to do without pride, obstinacy, or refusal. If after the explanation the abbot or prioress is still determined to hold to their original order, then the junior must recognize that this is best. Trusting in God’s help, they must in love obey.”

I am closely related to eight wonderful young people, my children and their spouses, and I also know a lot of other young folks who are raising families. They are trying to make ends meet in a rough economy, pressed for time and worried about the future. My heart goes out to them.

I remember the early days of family life when my husband and I felt so overwhelmed and exhausted that we thought we couldn’t go one step further. We lived with chronic sleepless nights, too little money and too little strength for the needs of four little ones. Often, just when we felt we had reached the end of our rope, an illness would sweep through the family or an unexpected expense would arise. We were sure that at some point we would run completely out of resources.

Sometimes we wanted to run away, but we knew that wouldn’t help. We knew the only alternative for us was to turn to the foundations of our faith and cry out to God for help. We always hoped that he would answer with an abundance of resources to give us relief, but usually he sent only enough to get us through the current moment. He gave us enough strength for one more day and enough money for one more bill. We wanted security, but he wanted us to learn how to depend upon him.

The truth is that only the Lord knows how much we can take. We may bargain or plead with him, explaining that we really can’t go on any further. We may even ask him how it looks to the rest of the world to see his children experience so much stress and worry. Is this how we are supposed live as children of the King? He is unmoved by all of that. He is not worried about his reputation as a provider, he concerned about shaping the character of his people.

Yesterday I talked with one of the precious young women in my life. She has faced great stresses in the past year including becoming a first-time mother, losing cherished loved ones to death, tight finances and unrelenting demands of the ministry she and her husband are in. They have often come to end of their resources and we have often prayed together for God’s provision. He has never failed, but usually he has not given them more than just what they needed for the moment.

She told me that these circumstances have grown her up. Things that would have upset her in the past now roll right off her shoulders. She doesn’t complain and she doesn’t fret as she might have in the past. She has more peace about the future, knowing how God has shown himself to be faithful in the past.

Our friend Benedict of Nursia understood how hard a life of obedience could be. In his Rule for a Christian community he assumed that every member would be asked to do the impossible sometimes. He allowed members to appeal to the authorities who assigned such difficult tasks. He also knew that none of us really knows ourselves and what we are capable of doing so he encourages us to trust the wisdom of the community when our appeal is denied. His rule states that after we have made our case, if the task still remains, we should give up our complaints and turn our hearts to loving what is before us.

This rule is laced with the language of humility and Christ-like character:

Patience, gentleness, obedience, love.

That is what God is working to create in us and He isn’t bothered by our fussing and fuming in the process.

It does not come naturally to face impossible tasks with these qualities of patience, gentleness, obedience and love, but we are not limited to what comes naturally. We have the power of God to transform us into people who are able to do the impossible. Nothing is too hard for him...nothing is too hard for us.

Shabby Chic in the Garden

Rainy day in February

In my imagination my garden is always a little earthly paradise where I can sit and talk with friends and family, enjoy good food, read good books and listen to good music. I love it any time of day, but especially in the early morning and early evening when sun sends dappled shadows skittering through the trees and across the faces of the flowers. The air is cool and fresh and everything is quiet.

It is always on my mind. In the summer it's a cool, serene retreat. In the fall it's bright, cheerful and picturesque. When the winter weather arrives and the rains begin, I gaze meditatively upon the dormant flower beds and dream of spring. We don’t have a front window in our house, so the back garden is my window on the world. It’s my special place of dreams. Often I go there to pray and think things through.

My husband, who was born in England and was raised in New Zealand, recently told me that my garden has a real English cottage feel. I thanked him! What higher praise could there be? He went on to say, “Yes, it has that familiar, slightly shabby, overgrown aspect to it.”

My spirits flagged a little, but I understood what he meant. He feels at home in my garden. It isn’t a showplace that inspires awe, it’s a cozy little work in progress. There is always something that needs trimming or transplanting, but that is part of its charm.

The saddest part of my garden has always been the little strip of Bermuda grass that bends around our brick patio. This past spring I seeded in new grass and covered it with topsoil, then I watered it faithfully and in two or three weeks was rewarded with clumps of tender green shoots coming up everywhere. Hooray! I was so happy the first time I mowed it and created an even swath of green grass all around the patio.

I waited a couple of months and then fertilized the new lawn with good stuff that would also kill any weeds that were growing. Within days all of my new grass died. I had burned my tender, baby grass with too much fertilizer. Since the end of May I have been watering a desolate patch of dirt laced with stringy Bermuda grass that apparently even too much fertilizer could not kill.

This fall I am going to try again. I am thinking of killing off the rest of the Bermuda grass with Roundup, tilling the ground and putting out new seed and topsoil. This time I am going to ask my husband to help me. I think that a missing ingredient in my gardening has been enlisting his good mind and skills to help me do it right.

By the way, here is a free gardening tip: One of the secrets of developing good soil is to find and employ the resources of a pet rabbit. My goddaughter has a bunny named Apricot that produces lovely droppings, full of nitrogen. Once a week or so, we dump a pail full of that stuff into my compost bin where it turns into magic fertilizer that my plants just love. It also attracts earthworms for some reason and they contribute their castings to the richness of the soil.

A garden is mostly dirt, green stuff and water, but it is also a canvas for the imagination. Some days it is perfect; everything is blooming and the herbs are fragrant in the warm sunshine. A week later it needs weeding and I have to cut away the finished blooms. But it’s those moments of perfection that keep me going...that, and knowing that I will get to start over in the next season.

E. B. White once wrote a posthumous introduction to a collection of articles written by his wife Katharine White for the New Yorker magazine. She was an editor and writer at the New Yorker, but also an avid gardener. He delighted in her passion for growing things and she constantly amazed him with the myriad ways she had for displaying her flowers. Here is what he said about her, looking back upon their life together:

“Armed with a diagram and a clipboard, Katharine would get into a shabby old Brooks raincoat much too long for her, put on a little round wool hat, pull on a pair of overshoes, and proceed to the director’s chair—a folding canvas thing—that had been placed for her at the edge of the plot. There she would sit, hour after hour, in the wind and the weather, while Henry Allen [their gardener] produced dozens of brown paper packages of new bulbs and a basketful of old ones, ready for the intricate interment. As the years went by and age overtook her, there was something comical yet touching in her bedraggled appearance on this awesome occasion—the small, hunched-over figure, her studied absorption in the implausible notion that there would be yet another spring, oblivious to the ending of her own days, which she knew perfectly well was near at hand, sitting there with her detailed chart under those dark skies in the dying October, calmly plotting the resurrection.” ( From Onward and Upward in the Garden by Katharine S. White.)

“Plotting the resurrection.” Maybe that is why working in the garden is such a joy to me. It may become shabby and things may die off, but it is awesome to start over each season and watch the garden grow into paradise once again. For me it's a little bit of heaven on earth.

Baby Love!

Creek walking with my little Grand Girl

This is Susannah, my sweet, first granddaughter. She lives in another state so I don't get to see her nearly enough, but she just spent five days with her Granddad and me. So did her mommy and daddy, but somehow we didn't get as many pictures of them as we did of her.

Their visit was a busy time with lots of friends and family coming by to say hello. I was in the kitchen for hours, making meals, fixing coffee and baking treats while people came and went. It was satisfying to hear the sound of laughter ringing through the house as people visited with each other. When I finally sat down in the living room at the end of the day, I found the conversation taking a quieter and more serious turn. It was wonderful to hear my kids talking about their lives and sharing their hearts with us.

Jonathan and Kristin are gracefully dealing with the challenges of raising Susannah. She is a very happy toddler, but she gets restless and wakes them up many nights. She is delightful to watch and fun to play with, but she needs lots and lots of that kind of attention. There is nothing they would rather do than love on their little girl, but sometimes they wish they could do other things as well. They hope to expand their family, but they are sobered by the responsibility of bringing children into the world.

These are the paradoxes of parenthood. Bern and I faced them when we raised our own brood and we remember the exhaustion and the expense, the fears and joys of raising four children to adulthood. So how should we advise these young parents now?

Here is what we say: Go for it! Enjoy those children and trust God to provide. There will never be a better way to invest your time and your life. It is the best thing in the world to end up with a house full of family, laughter and sharing.